it is really the 'good' emphasis tags.
the 'bye,' our nods in reflection's haze:
you have me altered: inside tuned more;
leaving revelations within self,
to unfurl in time under guide of
that true and old germinating song, luck.
thank you for everything.
Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end
Will come when it will come.
--William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar I was made to memorize the above poem when I was in the sixth grade. And, as a class, we recited it every morning. This is the only poem that I know by heart (with a forgotten word here and there). I am not afraid of my dying or that of my loved ones. I think death a devastating blessing. It is, after all, the only certainty for all living beings. As suggested by the poem above, I was brought up in an environment which sort of prepared one to face death head-on. Every Ghanaian knows that no one goes to a funeral to cry! I mean yes, we share tears here and there, but the majority of the time is spent eating, dancing, and catching up with all those extended family members one has not seen since so-and-so died––for …
To conceive death as death Is difficulty come by easily, A blankness fallen among Images of understanding, Death like a quick cold hand On the hot slow head of suicide. So it is come by easily For one instant. Then again furnaces Roar in the ears, then again hell revolves, And the elastic eye holds paradise At visible length from blindness, And dazedly the body echoes ‘Like this, like this, like nothing else.'
Like nothing––a similarity Without resemblance. The prophetic eye, Closing upon difficulty, Opens upon comparison, Halving the actuality As a gift too plain, for which Gratitude has no language,
So Long for Nana
my feelings spell
you as peace in dazzling happiness
awaiting in merriment in
so soon is where
we laugh without barricades in love
our fingers entwined